


Two Can Play This Game

by DreaminginCabeswater



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: First Dates, First Kiss, M/M, Pillow & Blanket Forts, Rain, Slow Dancing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-23
Updated: 2015-07-23
Packaged: 2018-04-10 19:01:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4403516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DreaminginCabeswater/pseuds/DreaminginCabeswater
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two can play this game. </p>
<p>The words echo in Adam’s mind, wondering what Ronan is up to. He doesn’t have to wonder long before Ronan has Adam running a wild goose chase that ends differently than Adam or Ronan both expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two Can Play This Game

**Author's Note:**

> Adam and Ronan in a blanket fort. At The Barns. In the rain. Dinner, movie and dancing. What more could you want from Pynch fluff? These Raven Boys do not belong to me. They are property of Maggie Stiefvater.

_**Squash one, squash two, squash three…**_  
  
“Fucking hell!” Adam yelled, flipping over yet another plastic container. “Ronan! I could fucking kill you!”  
  
Somewhere in Adam’s tiny St. Agnes apartment hid a tiny package of massive destruction: Ronan’s cell phone, turned from stun to obliterate. Adam feared that his right ear would follow his left ear in deafness before he found the cell and silenced the monstrosity.  
  
Adam stopped turning over furniture, hands propped on his hips and looked around his apartment. Every box, bin and container he owned was littered across the room haphazardly. Drawers were pulled out crookedly, cabinets opened, sheets and blankets pulled off his bed, the contents of the tiny closet now spread across the floor and stacked on his mattress. His apartment was a disaster zone, and the phone was still M.I.A.  
  
Adam was certain the phone was hiding in an obscure place that only Ronan would think of using. Son of a bitch. Adam could almost picture Ronan sitting in his room at Monmouth Manufacturing, headphones on his head, undoubtedly the Murder Squash song playing over them, and smirking at his dastardly deed. Adam wanted to simultaneously scream and laugh.  
  
Things between him and Ronan had been different lately. Not bad different, just different. Ronan’s glances a little longer. Adam finding himself returning the glances. Glances that lingered on Ronan’s muscular arms, the way his clothes fit over his lean, taut frame, the way his fiery blue eyes narrowed and his strong jaw line clenched just before his lips split into a sharp, dangerous grin. Glances that made heat pool at the base of Adam’s spine and tempting thoughts appear out of the ether making Adam want to tauntingly trace Ronan’s tattoo with his fingers… his tongue. Glances and thoughts that made Adam question everything he thought he knew about himself.  
  
Most of the time, Adam denied it. There was no way he could be attracted to Ronan, but when Ronan’s body moved closer to his more often than not, Adam’s heart would thud against his sternum like a bass drum. Adam chalked it up to adrenaline, the excitement of the unknown, but when Ronan wasn’t close, Adam found himself missing the heat that seeped from Ronan and the scent of mist and moss and sweat. As much as Adam fought with Ronan, he missed him when he wasn’t sleeping next to him on the floor of St. Agnes. The shared glances and unspoken words played in Adam’s mind, sometimes for days after. Adam didn’t understand it, but he liked it, and it was something he couldn’t deny anymore. Something he could no longer lie to himself about.  
  
_**Squash one, squash two, squash three…**_  
  
Adam groaned as the loop of painful music started again. He flung himself on top of a mound of clothes, pillows, and blankets on his bed. He pulled a pillow around the back of his head trying to muffle the sound. Adam cursed himself for attempting to play this game with Ronan. Never again. Ronan would always win.  
  
Earlier in the day, Ronan had cornered Adam at Aglionby by his locker.  
  
“Here,” Ronan had said, thrusting a black and yellow plastic bag into his hands as Adam peeked from around his open locker.  
  
“What’s this?” Adam asked closing his locker with a spin then peering into the bag. “Oh no! No! No! No, no, no, no, no, no!”  
  
Inside the bag was a cell phone. Not an old fashioned monster that flipped up, but a sleek new model with all the bells and whistles Adam so desperately wanted in a phone.  
  
“Take it, loser,” Ronan said, his eyes solid, his facial expression unwavering. “You need a phone.”  
  
“I don’t need a phone,” Adam countered trying to push the bag back into Ronan’s hands. “Everyone I talk to is either here at school or at Monmouth.”  
  
“What about when you’re at work?” Ronan asked, quirking a dark eyebrow.  
  
“I’m working,” Adam said, rolling his eyes. “Not that you would know much about that.”  
  
“At least I know how to play, dumbass,” Ronan replied, just as he would say that the sky was blue or the grass was green.  
  
Adam reluctantly peered back into the bag and with a sigh, stuffed it into his backpack.  
  
“This doesn’t mean I’m taking it, Lynch. I just don’t have time to fight with you right now. I have class.”  
  
Ronan waved a hand at him dismissively. “Whatever, Parrish.”  
  
Adam had turned and left for class shaking his head. The cell phone in his bag heavy, like he was carrying around a billion bricks worth a million dollars. As much as Adam wanted the phone, he couldn’t accept it. Ronan knew that, so why did he buy it for him?  
  
At the end of the day, Adam traipsed to the parking lot to meet Ronan and return the cell phone. Adam watched Aglionby students carve a wide path as they made their way through the parking lot, avoiding the BMW and Ronan. Ronan had that effect on people. He had the opposite on Adam. Ronan leaned against the shiny charcoal exterior looking both dangerous and indifferent, like a shark treading water. Adam’s stomach dipped to his knees at the sight. Adam allowed his mind to wander into dangerous territory: Adam closing the distance between the two of them and kissing Ronan with a devouring hunger. Deep and dirty and smoldering.  
  
“Here,” Adam said, holding out the bag in Ronan’s general direction.  
  
Ronan stared at him, his blue eyes burning, his jaw clenched, his muscles dangerously still like a cobra about to strike. Adam squirmed under the impressive gaze, not out of fear or intimidation, but desire.  
  
“Just take the bag, you asshole.”  
  
Ronan narrowed his eyes and took the bag. “Fine,” he said, raising a sharp eyebrow. “Two can play this game.”  
  
_Two can play this game._  
  
Adam had learned the hard way that Ronan and thinly veiled threats should never be ignored. Ronan’s cryptic message kept resurfacing for the rest of the evening: at the garage under the old Pontiac, in the factory resonating above the tinny whir of machinery, on the quiet drive back to St. Agnes. It played on repeat, Adam puzzling over it, searching for a clue, until realization dawned with the first round of The Murder Squash Song that knocked his Latin textbook and a glass of water to the ground.  
  
_**Squash one, squash two, squash three…**_  
  
“Damn it, Ronan.”  
  
Adam threw the pillow across the room and flipped over on his back. Above him the ceiling fan rotated lazily. Maybe if he watched it long enough it would hypnotize him and he could tune out the infernal racket, or maybe it would fall and knock him unconscious. Both scenarios worked for Adam.  
  
“That bastard,” Adam said eyes wide. A faint blue glow reflected on the ceiling from one of the fan’s blades.  
  
Adam rolled off the bed and turned the fan’s switch to off. Teetering precariously atop the pile of clothes on his bed, he reached for the phone and yanked. He stumbled backward, but steadied himself before he could fall. Adam peeled duct tape off the back of the phone and swiped at the screen. A text from Gansey’s phone popped up.  
  
_**About damn time, Parrish. The Barns, Midnight. -R.**_  
  
Adam rolled his eyes at the text, but a small smile turned up the corner of his lips. What was Ronan up to?  
  
****  
  
At midnight, Adam pulled through the long drive of The Barns and parked next to the house. Adam exited the car into the humid spring night. Stars dusted the jet-black sky, the only light in the thick darkness. Adam pocketed Ronan’s phone and looked around, squinting, trying to unsuccessfully locate even a shimmer of light that would tell him where Ronan might be. Night Blooming Jasmine and the humid scent of impending rain wafted in the air around Adam. In the distance, lightning illuminated massive, dark clouds and thunder rolled vibrating the ground. A promise of the approaching thunderstorm.  
  
“Ronan!” Adam yelled into the night. “I’m here. Where are you?”  
  
Silence.  
  
Adam figured that Ronan’s game included trying to make him piss his pants. He had only been to The Barns during the day and always with Ronan by his side. Adam wasn’t one to scare easily, but The Barns were different. No one truly knew what lurked in the shadows here.  
  
Adam pulled out Ronan’s phone and switched on the flashlight. He swirled the light around him, scanning his surroundings. Nothing out of place, except for a piece of white paper fluttering in the wind on the screen door of the house.  
  
Adam climbed up the creaking stairs to the house, droplets of rain sprinkling from the sky onto his face and shoulders. Adam listened intently, wary of any sound, certain Ronan or one of his dream creatures would jump out from the shadows. Adam shone the light on the paper, a note scribbled in Ronan’s furious handwriting.  
  
_**Adam,**_  
_**About damn time. I thought I said midnight. Is it midnight? I didn’t fucking think so. If you had your own goddamn phone, this wouldn’t be a problem. Follow the trail.**_  
_**-R** _  
  
“It’s only 12:05, dickwad,” Adam muttered under his breath. Then to the sky, he yelled, “What trail?” The wind and night swallowed his words. He searched the darkness for anything.  
  
One by one, small little blue and white lights illuminated the darkness, creating a path from the house to a barn on the far side of the field. Adam followed each light, the sprinkling of rain turning into a steady drizzle, until he reached the door to a giant white barn.  
  
“Ronan?” Adam asked pulling open the door.  
  
He dried his face on the hem of his T-shirt and ran a hand through his damp hair, brushing it out of his eyes. It was warm enough, but a shiver ran through Adam, goose bumps peppering his skin.  
  
The barn was just as dark as the surrounding fields, meaning Adam could barely see his hand before his face.  
  
“Over here,” Ronan said, voice muffled.  
  
Adam couldn’t tell where his voice was coming from, but he walked forward, and ran into a wall, rough wood scratching his skin and metal clanking somewhere in front of him.  
  
“Oomph,” Adam grunted.  
  
Ronan cackled. “I didn’t say walk into the wall, dipshit.”  
  
Adam rubbed his chest where a slow ache spread.  
  
“Damn it, Ronan, where the hell are you?”  
  
“Right here,” Ronan said, his voice still muffled. “What’s the magic word?”  
  
Adam rolled his eyes. “Abracadabra? Let me the fuck in?”  
  
Ronan laughed again. “Close enough.”  
  
Before Adam, white lights began to flicker in the dark, each one slowly illuminating a large tent-like structure in the center of the barn. Mini-white lights lined the outside of the structure and a slight glow pressed through the fabrics. Each fabric more exotic than the previous. Adam gasped.  
  
“What the hell is this Ronan?”  
  
Adam had never seen anything so elaborate before. Various fabrics, some delicate and silky, some thick and rich, all with ornate designs ascended to peaks and dipped to valleys, reminding Adam of a calm sea. A small pang twinged in his heart. Adam had dreamed of building a tent just like this when he was a child, a place to call his own and hide away from the cruel world around him, but that dream never came true. It would have never been allowed in his household.  
  
“Why don’t you come in and see for yourself?”  
  
Adam imagined the smug expression on Ronan’s face. His eagerness to see it in person surprised him. To Adam’s side was a small makeshift door created by drapes of fabrics in floral, paisley, and bohemian-style patterns alternating with white sheets from Monmouth. Adam knelt and touched the fabrics, his fingers digging in, clutching and trailing, allowing himself the indulgence of enjoying the luxurious cloth. He smiled at how exquisite they felt against his rough, tired skin. For a moment, Adam wondered if he was dreaming, but the earlier headache with the Murder Squash Song reminded him otherwise. Adam pulled the fabrics aside and crawled into the tent.  
  
Adam’s breath caught in his throat. The inside of the tent appeared as if it had been pulled from a dream, and knowing Ronan, it probably had been. More exotic fabrics draped over ropes and poles. White lights draped from one end of the large blanket fort to the other across the ceiling, moving with the fabric, casting the inside in a warm glow. Large, colorful pillows, in all shapes and sizes and silken fabrics, covered the floor. Adam knelt in awe of what he saw, then he saw Ronan and he had to dig his hands into the pillows to keep upright.  
  
“About damn time,” Ronan said, lounging in a corner of the tent, a wicked grin on his savagely handsome face.  
  
Adam’s heart skipped a beat. There was no denying it anymore. Adam had to face the facts. He had a crush on Ronan, which meant his sexuality wasn’t as clear cut as he thought it was. He wasn’t sure what these feelings meant at the moment, but he didn’t want to over think it either, which came so easily to him. He just wanted to enjoy it for a change.  
  
“Are you going to sit in the doorway all night?” Ronan nudged a box of pizza toward Adam. “Or are you going to join me for dinner?”  
  
Adam crawled in, careful not to hit his head on the low hanging fabrics and made his way across the soft pillows on his hands and knees, sinking in slightly.  
  
“What is all this?” Adam asked again, plopping down next to Ronan, shoulders close enough that Adam could feel Ronan’s warmth.  
  
“Dinner,” Ronan said, thrusting a plate of pizza into Adam’s hands followed by a can of coke.  
  
“Why the blanket fort?”    
  
“Why not?” Ronan wrenched the cap off a bottle of beer and took a swig. “Seemed like fun.”  
  
Adam narrowed his eyes. “Not your type of fun.”  
  
“I’m a man of many distinctions. Now shut your mouth and eat your pizza.”  
  
Adam smirked at the pink tinge crawling across Ronan’s cheeks and tips of his ears.  
  
Thunder growled above them and the drizzle of rain transformed into a downpour. They ate in silence, the only sound the thrum of rain on the barn’s roof.  
  
“Why tonight of all nights?” Adam asked finishing his last slice of pizza.  
  
Ronan quirked a dark eyebrow at him in question.  
  
“The rain?”  
  
Ronan’s face lit with excitement. “Dude, the rain makes this even better.”  
  
It was Adam’s turn to raise an eyebrow in question.  
  
“Dinner and a movie, in a blanket fort, in the rain. There is no better way to experience life.”  
  
Adam raised his eyebrows waiting for more.  
  
“Come on Parrish, can’t you just enjoy it?”  
  
Adam kept staring at Ronan. When he was ready, Ronan would talk. He would share what was below the surface.  
  
Ronan groaned. “Fine, you jack ass.” Ronan cast his eyes downward, his voice softer. “We used to do this when I was little. My family. We would turn the living room into a giant blanket fort and watch movies, eating junk food, and sometimes my parents would dance.” Ronan plucked at his leather bands. “And when it rained, it was even better.”  
  
Adam’s stomach clenched. Ronan’s exterior was sharp and covered with spikes, and sometimes, Adam forgot his interior was not the same. No one expected the gentle side of Ronan. The side that remembered Noah, hugged Matthew like his arms could shield him from the world, paid Adam’s rent, or dreamed EpiPens for Gansey. That fierce protectiveness that only one could dream of having in their lives. Adam had dreamt the dream before, now he wondered if he could take it.  
  
Adam leaned toward Ronan, Adam’s shoulder grazing his.  
  
“So where’s the movie?”  
  
Ronan pulled a projector the size of a deck of cards out the bag by his side.  
  
“I dreamed it,” Ronan answered Adam before he could ask the question.  
  
The projector didn’t whir like normal movie projectors, but it did project a clear picture onto the white sheet hanging in front of them, an action-packed film with lots of sleek, fast cars and explosions. An adrenaline junkie’s dream.    
  
During a slower part of the movie, Adam angled toward Ronan’s ear and whispered. “Do you know what would make this even better?”  
  
Ronan smirked and scavenged in his bag, pulling out two rectangular shaped packages, handing one to Adam.  
  
“Candy?”  
  
Adam smiled wide, taking his bar. “Exactly.”  
  
Adam relaxed even more into Ronan, opening the candy bar, the crinkling plastic almost inaudible over the rain and the blaring gunfire of the movie. Adam and Ronan’s sides pressed together from shoulders to legs. The combination of heat from Ronan, the hypnotic flashing lights on the screen, the steady beat of rain on the roof, and the sweet, creamy chocolate on Adam’s tongue lulled him into an even deeper state of relaxation.  
  
Adam reclined back into the pillows, letting his head drop onto Ronan’s shoulder. Ronan instantly tensed up. Adam closed his eyes, Ronan’s scent of grass and mist calming him even more. Adam couldn’t remember a moment he felt this peaceful and unguarded. He moved his hand to Ronan’s, his fingertips tracing over Ronan’s knuckles, lingering for a few moments. Adam could feel Ronan’s eyes on him like fire.  
  
“It’s okay.” Adam murmured, his breathing deeper.  
  
Ronan relaxed under Adam’s fingers, and Ronan touched his cheek to Adam’s hair. Just before sleep overtook him, Adam felt Ronan drag a soft, woven blanket over them.  
  
****  
  
When Adam woke, he wasn’t sure if minutes or hours had passed. First, he remembered the tent. Then he remembered Ronan. Before he opened his eyes, he felt Ronan’s fingers tangled in his own, Ronan’s pulse a quick dart across Adam’s wrist. At some point the movie finished. The only sound in the tent the boys’ steady breathing and the slow patter of rain. Adam ran his thumb over Ronan’s wrist, massaging circles. Adam didn’t want to open his eyes. He was certain that words would fail him.  
  
“Some date you are,” Ronan muttered beside him. “Falling asleep on me.”  
  
Adam peeked from under his lashes. Ronan’s blue eyes didn’t hold any of their usual fire.  
  
“I could say the same of you.” Adam lifted his head and stretched. “Planning such a boring date to make me fall asleep.”  
  
Ronan scoffed. “I never plan boring dates.”  
  
There. Everything they needed to say was out in the open. They addressed what needed to be addressed without all the formality. It was exactly everything Adam and Ronan were.  
  
“Got another coke?” Adam asked, twisting and moving to stretch his stiff muscles.  
  
Ronan tossed him one and took a swig of beer. Adam popped the top, chugging the frothy cold liquid. He felt like he had been asleep for hours.  
  
“Come on,” Adam said standing and holding a hand out to Ronan.  
  
Ronan stared at his hand like it was an alien life form. Adam stretched his hand out further.  
  
“Just come on.”  
  
Ronan finally slipped his hand into Adam’s and lifted off the floor. Adam led him to the center of the tent and crouched down to move a few pillows out of the way.  
  
“Wanna dance?” Adam asked.  
  
“Sure,” Ronan replied.  
  
Both boys pretended the awkwardness between them didn’t exist.  
  
With a snap of Ronan’s fingers, soft instrumental music that reminded Adam of the craggy coasts and lush verdant hills of Ireland, filled the tent. A smile curled up Adam’s lips and he looked at Ronan fondly.  
  
“What?” Ronan asked, his blue eyes intense and fixated on Adam.  
  
“Nothing,” Adam dipped his eyes. “You just never cease to amaze me.”  
  
“You better fucking believe it.” Ronan slid a firm hand around Adam’s waist and pulled him close, their chests almost touching.  
  
Adam breathed in deeply and wound his arms around Ronan’s neck. Ronan’s other hand glided up Adam’s back, pulling him even closer.  
  
In the warm glow of the tent, Ronan and Adam swayed to the music, breathes intermingling, staring into each other’s eyes, eager yet cautious. Adam’s fingers tangled in the soft hairs at the nape of Ronan’s neck. Ronan’s fingers traced the bones and muscles of Adam’s back, each touch loosening and igniting something within Adam.  
  
“Ronan…”  
  
Ronan shook his head and slowly stopped, the music still cascading around them. Ronan dipped his head. Adam’s heart pounded furiously against his rib cage, and his breath caught in his throat. Anticipation tore through him like a gust of gale force winds. Adam pressed closer to Ronan, uncertain if his knees would hold.  
  
When Ronan’s lips caught his, it was like a dam bursting, and the relief that flooded his veins was quickly licked up by fire.  
  
Their lips danced in a slow rhythm, allowing for discovery. Ronan’s lips reflected everything about his spirit, soft and supple, with enough give and take, thoughtful and understanding. Only when Adam’s hands found the hem of Ronan’s tank did the tempo increase. As fingers traced over ribs, taut muscles and burning skin, their lips parted and tongues tangled in a smooth languid dance. Ronan’s hands traveled over Adam’s torso and up his spine, each finger leaving a trail of ash in its wake. Lips trailed across cheeks and nibbled at jaw lines only to dance down necks to collarbones. Fingers tangled in hair, breathing hitched, and small sounds of pleasure called out from bases of throats. Everything around Adam floated away.  
  
When their lips finally broke apart, Adam didn’t want to open his eyes, terrified it had been a dream.  
  
“Adam.” Ronan’s voice shook. He pushed his fingers through Adam’s hair, brushing it off his forehead, and cupped his cheek.  
  
Adam opened his eyes to Ronan’s flushed cheeks and bright blue eyes, a twinge of trepidation in them. Adam reached for Ronan’s hands and kissed him on the cheek, the skin hot beneath his lips.  
  
“Ronan, I’m all in.”  
  
Ronan closed his eyes, relief visible in every aspect of his posture, and smiled a simple, content smile.  
  
“About damn time, Parrish.” Ronan turned and tugged Adam toward the movie area again. “Want to watch another movie?”  
  
“Do you have anything less shoot ‘em up, bang ‘em up?” Adam asked slipping down into the pillows, Ronan cradled against his side.  
  
“Funny you should ask.” A mischievous grin spread across Ronan’s face. “I have just the thing.” He hit a button on the projector.  
  
_**Squash one, squash two, squash three…**_  
  
“Ronan!” Adam groaned.  
  
Ronan just smiled wide and proud like he had made the best joke in the world. Adam reached for the projector, but Ronan jerked it away.  
  
“Turn it off Ronan!”  
  
“Not gonna do it.” Ronan’s sly grin only grew wider.  
  
Adam shook his head and tackled Ronan to the pillows.  
  
_Two could play this game._  
  



End file.
